Muse
by everyday-is-masloween
Summary: He would listen to everybody's poems, hear them spill about their problems; relate to them. But the only thing on his mind was Carlos, his Carlos, his muse.
1. Introduction

Guiseee i'm sorry, I know I keep promising that I won't write anymore stories and that i'd try to update and finish everything else first, but this is going to be a really quick one and I already have ideas for it. So just hear me out. Okay, so this is going to be a poetry story; based on the book _Bronx Masquerade _by Nikki Grimes. The format of Bronx Masquerade is that in each chapter it starts with one of the characters explaining their situation or introducing themselves, and then it has their poem. The story is that they are doing Open Mike in their English class every week and write poems about their lives and read them out loud. I'm doing kind of the same thing, except for there won't be an introduction from each chara_c_ter. It will just be a ton of poems. Also this is mainly Jarlos, some "inner" Kogan and also Lomille and Jendall. Enjoyy c;

* * *

_I can't find the words to say,_  
_When I'm confused,_  
_I've traveled half the world to say,_  
_You are my muse_

* * *

**Muse Chap. 1**

**Introduction**

"Class, I have some exciting news today!"

"Are you retiring?" someone called from the back. A few snickers. Some annoying "shhhh"s.

Mr. Francesca just laughed his hearty, booming laugh. "Sometimes I forget you guys are just immature adolescents. Especially you, DEANDRE ADAMS." He all but yelled, causing the sleeping kid in the front to shoot up from his desk. Mr. Francesca was like that sometimes. Unpredictable.

"So as I was saying, we have something exciting happening in this high school for once." he said. "Poetry Slam. Open Mike. Get writing." Everyone just looked around. What? Exciting news? Poetry? It wasn't very convincing.

"Mr. Francesca?" someone asked in the front. Carlos Garcia. Everyone would be calling him a goody two shoes if he wasn't so happy and nice to everyone. You couldn't really hate the kid.

"Yes, Carlos?"

"What's a poetry slam?" Some more immature snickers. Mostly everyone leaned in to hear the answer though, for they were, too, clueless.

Mr. Francesca made an exasperated face. "Oh, come _on_, guys! You really don't know? A poetry slam is simply an assembly where everyone is free to read their poems to the class, you know, if they want to. But I, however, am tweaking the rules just a bit. Poetry is _mandatory_. I'm not saying you absolutely have to read your poetry every week, but I would really encourage you to write it. It's not a grade, but it is an assignment. Now get to work, I have to go smuggle another cup of coffee from the teacher's lounge."

Maybe that would've gotten a laugh if everyone wasn't so confused. But everyone went to work immediately. Everyone except Carlos, whose mind was elsewhere.

* * *

Well that intro sucked. The poetry will be better, I swear. :3 Bai.

~hortense-hears-a-who


	2. Trees by James Diamond

**Muse Chap. 2**

**Trees **

Poetry was never really my thing, but as soon as Mr. Fran told us to get writing, my mind was whirring with ideas. If you knew me you'd be thinking, "James Diamond? Ideas? Like about what, hockey? Hair styles? Girls?" But no, the only reason I was even trying this poetry thing was because of Carlos. He was on my hockey team and we talked at lunch a few times since he's friends with my best friend Kendall, but I don't really know him. But get this-i'm already completely in love with him. He's so _cute. _I love it when he sometimes wears his hockey helmet around school or when he gives me a little squeeze after we win games, saying "Alright, Diamond! You're amazing!" I could write so many things about how I felt about Carlos.

I watched him now, looking around as everyone else began to write. He looked kind of lost, but I couldn't blame him. The poetry assignment was a bit out of the blue. I guess I kind of stopped thinking for a moment, because I was still staring straight at him the moment he chose to turn towards me. And usually I would've gone with my "think fast!" method and just looked away, but I still stared at him. We locked eyes. I don't know if I was expecting him to give me a weird look or say "you totally have a crush on me, fuck off" but in that moment I was really afraid of what he would think of me.

But, heck, it was Carlos. He just smiled at me and leaned down to get some paper out of his backpack.

Jesus Christ. Talk about perfect poetry material. I started writing.

_Trees _

_by James Diamond_

_A person_

_walks through a forest_

_wearing what appears_

_to be_

_bright glitter_

_shining_

_through everyone else_

_I know_

_and making me long_

_for light_

_but no, I can not move_

_even when they stop_

_to take_

_a picture_

_and even lean up_

_to pick off_

_a branch_

_so I just watch_

_and weep_

_but no one notices_

_for trees can not actually cry_

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__Was that better? I'm not actually really a poetry person, I just kind of write vague metaphorical stuff or whatever. I don't know. Just wait, it will improve, I promise. Okay i'm really sick and tired, don't judge me. G'bye.

~hortense-hears-a-who


	3. A Little Bird Told Me by Kendall Knight

**Muse Chap. 3**

**A Little Bird Told Me**

It's been a whole month since Mr. Joe (that's what I call Mr. Francesca) assigned us that poetry thing. At first, I was expecting everyone to think it was lame or make some half ass attempts at it like they do with other homework, but no, people got really into it. Almost everybody read their poetry every week and it was all surprisingly deep. Listening to other people's poems really touched me, kind of softened my judgement towards them. The people who everyone thought were dumb? I began to respect them more. Outcasts that my friends made fun of for no apparent reason? I began to like them more than I liked my friends. Poetry really does have an effect on you. I started to feel closer to my classmates than I had ever felt.

But, man, I really did wish Logan was in my class. Logan Mitchell-he was my best friend, and when I say _best friend _I really mean it. We've known each since birth because we were neighbors. Throughout our childhood I told him everything, but now that we were in high school it became a little bit too awkward. But yeah, we're still friends. He and his girlfriend Camille and me and my girlfriend Jo go out on double dates a lot, and we always hang out before and after hockey practice.

But recently, I've noticed a small change in Logan. I guess he'd always been this way ever since high school started, but I started realizing it a bit more after what Carlos told me. Carlos was one of me and Logan's other best friends, besides James. One day he had come up to me after hockey practice (and i'd like to point out that Logan didn't say a word to me the whole practice time) and simply said, "Logan feels like you guys aren't as close anymore. He's sad."

If it had been anyone else, I would've probably said, "Well what the hell do you know about him, huh? Mind your own fucking business." But it was Carlos, and Logan always felt comfortable talking about his problems with Carlos. I told him thanks for telling me, looked for Logan, and then went home when I couldn't find him. I never talked to him about it, but ever since that day I never stopped thinking about it. I tried to invite Logan to hang out more, asking him to come along with me and Jo on almost all of our dates and bring Camille. But he still kind of seemed sad, like, I would catch him with a longing look on his face sometimes, staring at nothing in particular.

So, I decided that's what I should write my poem about. I knew Logan wouldn't be able to hear it, but it sure would feel good to read it aloud in front of others.

_A Little Bird Told Me_

_By: Kendall Knight_

_On the day that you died, a bird fluttered onto my shoulder_

_he said, "something happened" and then flew away_

_he didn't say your name, but I had my suspicions_

_something had happened to _you.

_So I prayed to you every night and laughed and pretended you were still alive,_

_but you were always still a ghost_

_and I was a human. So I didn't understand._

_You are up in heaven now, moved on as I grieve_

_but though you won't watch over me anymore_

_I want to say_

_that I still love you and you are the one I will hug everyday_

_even though you are a ghost and I am human_

_ and the bird never came back_

_to tell me what happened to you._

_For maybe the bird was a ghost too._

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Am I a terrible poet? Yes? No? Tell me in the reviews. Thank you for reading. Oh my god. The feels. Ah. Bye.

~hortense-hears-a-who


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